Lycanthropy
by LeontinaStardust
Summary: Sirius realises how much being a werewolf can ruin a man. Self-harm and attempted suicide warnings.


_Here's another drabble/one-shot that has been written purely to try and get some thoughts out of my head. I find some of the most powerful works come from when the writer is in a dark place. I wonder how true that is._

_Warnings for self-harm and attempted suicide. _

**X**

Lycanthropy. That one word has had such a huge impact on your life.

Lycanthropy. The 'illness' that people judged you for, the curse that turned you into a wolf every full moon; the curse that turned you into a monster every moment of your life most would say.

And when people call you a monster for so long, when they treat you like filth and scum, when they use the fact you're a werewolf against you, slashing you with their cruel words, eventually you come to believe them. Why else would people be afraid of you; of _it_? You could easily kill them. Even when there is no full moon, the curse ravages your body and makes you stronger and faster than a normal human. You are not human. You are not the same of them. You are a wolf. Deep inside, that wolf is always lurking.

Or so you think, anyway. I wish I could prove to you that you are so much more than those who mistreat you. You are not human; you are a super-human. You should embrace your wolf, don't be afraid of it. It is who you are, and you cannot change that. You have never harmed a soul as a wolf. You never would.

I found the blades stashed away in one of your books. Prongs and I were hoping to play a prank on you. Needless to say we were too horrified to do anything of the sort. Prongs has been quiet lately, but I don't think he realises how bad it truly is.

I realised too late that you always wear long sleeves. I realised that for far too long your smile hasn't reached your eyes and your laughter is forced.

I wonder why you do it. Do you want to bleed out the curse? Take it away from you, never to haunt you again? Do you just want to feel the pain, to feel anything at all? Or do you really detest yourself that much you think you deserve to suffer?

We hid your blades, but that was never enough. You never got cross, or asked us questions. Yet your sleeves never shortened, and your smile never brightened. You were smarter than all of us. I sometimes worry I never even tried.

I remember waking up and finding you gone. Everything made neat and tidy, just like every morning. But the note on your pillow said otherwise. '_I'm sorry_'. Two little words. Two words that drove more fear into my heart than anything ever had done before.

I didn't bother to wake James or Peter, I didn't bother to find you on the map. I never thought about any of those things. I just had to find you.

I had never run so fast. I had never cared less about anything else.

I just had to find you.

The Shrieking Shack was my goal. That was where you were holed up when the wolf took you over. That was where your prison was. You were prisoned, yet your only crime was lycanthropy. Not a crime at all if you ask me.

Lycanthropy. The one word between life and death.

**X**

I stare at you in shock and fear.

Are you alive? You are hanging there from the rafters, a noose tied around your neck.

I pale, and even I stop breathing.

Are you alive?

Your chest moves slightly.

Thank Merlin.

I cast a Diffindo spell at the rope.

Your body lands with a soft thump.

I am at your side in an instant.

"Moony, Moony," I whisper.

Your eyes flutter and you whimper.

"Please, Remus, wake up," I beg. I tighten my hold.

Am I too late?

What if I am too late and your brain has been damaged?

What if you die anyway?

Am I too late?

You said something to me once; the human brain survives only a few minutes without oxygen.

You had planned this, I realise.

You told us, and we didn't notice.

Why were we such blind fools?

You stir, and your eyes start to open.

"Sirius," you croak.

I sob. I wasn't too late. A minute longer might have made so much difference.

A deadly difference.

"I want to die," you say.

"I know," I answer.

"Let me," you cry. "I'm nothing more than a monster."

"You are no monster," I say softly. "You are more than that. You are a Marauder."

You laugh, but we both know it's fake.

"I'll save you Remus," I promise. I kiss you on the forehead.

You are sobbing into my shoulder. I just hold you.

I vow in this moment I will save you, Remus.

Lycanthropy. It won't destroy you anymore.

**X**

_J.K. Rowling has said that Remus being a werewolf was a metaphor for AIDs, but I also think lycanthropy is similar to mental illness, which is where the inspiration for this story comes from._


End file.
